CHAPTER ONE
3rd Age - September 19, 3018
Saruman the White and Chief of the Istari would always carefully plan every outcome and possibility laid before him. Although he had shed his title because of his alliance with the enemy, the Maia's fame was great and his knowledge deep, for he possessed a skill that allowed him to easily control people's minds. His words would charm and bedazzle; even the Mighty Sauron was afraid of him. It was only a matter of time before the One Ring was rightfully his.
Hiding in his fortress of Orthanc, he sat hunched over a parchment, his quill scratching quickly against the paper for hours on end. The room was lit only by the gentle orange glow of candle light. Examining the page over he slowly rolled it up and placed it carefully amongst the others.
The old bearded wizard stood up, grabbed hold of his staff and made his way out of the room.
The Istari knew for a fact that he would be the One Ring's next owner; he felt it in his very being. But... Saruman was no fool. He had prepared himself for the very slim chance that he would fail - if the ring was destroyed and his current body discarded. Yes, even in this eventuality, he had prepared and he held pride in the knowledge that he had control over even his own death and rebirth.
Yes, that made him most content.
Walking purposefully down the long circular flight of marble steps, he entered the small kitchen on the ground floor. If someone were to enter this room, they would notice nothing out of the ordinary.
He stopped beside an worn rug situated in the middle of the room and pushed it aside with the tip of his foot, revealing a trap door.
He whispered a word and the trapdoor unlocked with a resounding click. His staff suddenly glew bright, showing a tight passage going downwards before him. Carefully, he descended the rough stone slab of stairs and the shadows danced around him. Ahead lay another source of light. With another word of magic he willfully changed his appearance into that of a graceful and handsome elf. His robes of white remained the same but now his stance was straight and strong - youth and graceful charm exhuming from every part of him.
The room was dark, humid and stuffy with a low ceiling and no windows; what was visible of the barrels and supplies were covered in spiderwebs and a thick dust. It was a regular cellar except for one detail; a beautiful elleth rested against a small bed, lit by candlelight. Her long, wavy midnight hair was sprawled around a delicate face; features only the firstborn were graced with.
She wore a simple grey gown and sang softly to her swollen abdomen. Upon his arrival her eyes came alight and she sat up with difficulty.
"Curumo, my love!"
He sat down beside her and held her slender hand in his and leaned over to kiss her lips. "My Dearest, Nórisilmë. How fares our little one?"
"She is so very full of life," Nórisilmë answered, a beautiful smile curving her lips.
The Istari was momentarily lost in thought. It didn't really matter if the baby was female, his plan would still play out the same way. He smiled back at his elven mate and brought the back of her hand to his lips. "She will be a wondrous beauty, like her mother."
The elf maid stared at him with adulation, a slight blush reaching her pale cheeks.
His web of deceit and manipulation had been carefully woven over time, the elf had taken no notice of her imprisonment; fully believing in his lies. Saruman didn't feel a shred of pity, guilt or regret for these innocent lives he placed in danger. He had a purpose and nothing in his meticulous plan could afford to go awry.
Leaning in and gracefully placing his hands on each side of the abdomen, he whispered in the ancient tongue of magic.
3rd Age - August 5th, 3019
Twas a grand day when the One Ring had been destroyed and Sauron and his armies were no more. Aragorn had been crowned King and forces of evil were vanquished. Now standing at the eve of a more peaceful age, Middle-Earth rejoiced.
King Elessar had married the beautiful Arwen Undómiel and made her his wife. The sapling of the White tree they planted, a symbol of rebirth and of hope.
Although the thick veil of Sauron's darkness had been lifted, word of Saruman's devious escape from the Ents brought him worry and he decided to rid his fortress of any artifacts that could be used for evil. Under the white flags of Gondor, amongst the soldiers were with his faithful companions Legolas and Gimli who traveled with him to Orthanc.
The lone tower stood silently amongst the ravaged land as a witness of the evil that had transpired within. The former beautiful adorned front doors were now but destroyed and the white marble outer wall; was broken and scorched. It was with renewed hope that some of the wrongs that were done to the land would be righted.
Stealing a glance at his companions, his sword Anduril at the ready, King Elessar carefully advanced into the depths of Saruman's former dwelling.
The group painstakingly searched the broken tower's every nook and cranny. It was a long but necessary task. The place lay in utter disarray; chairs overturned, parchments and books littered the ornate carpets, vases and statues were broken. Even if the evil of Saruman had been vanquished and was no more, a thickness and dread to the air remained.
They climbed up the stairs to Saruman's luxurious study and sleeping quarters. The group began their meticulous search amongst the many artifacts. Most of what they found was rubbish and what held some significance had been destroyed beyond repair.
"By my aunt's great beard!" Gimli exclaimed, most of his body buried in a large wooden closet.
"What is it, friend?" Legolas gave the dwarf his full attention. Aragorn knew that tone meant Gimli had made an interesting discovery and turned around to look.
The stout dwarf came out of the closet with a splutter, flailing his arms about, uttering a long string of dwarven curses; attempting to get free of the robes that had fallen upon him. Elessar tried to hide his mirth pulling at the corner of his mouth but found it was incredibly difficult given the dwarf's constant comical lack of grace. By the look of it, Legolas wasn't faring any better.
A sense of wonder overtook of him as a beautiful jewel was revealed sparkled in the dwarf's large calloused hand. He came up to him with excitement and held it in his own hands. The magnificent jewel shone with many perfectly cut facets.
"Elendilmir, Star of the North! It was presumed to be lost forever when Isildur perished in the Gladden Fields!" King Elessar couldn't believe such an item would be hid in closet.
"This jewel contains a tiny measure of the light of the Silmarils," Legolas spoke in reverently his eyes entranced by the treasure found.
"By my great-grandmother's beard! This is a most wondrous find!" Gimli was ecstatic. There was nothing more enticing for a dwarf than precious ancient jewels.
"You may keep it safe with you until our return," Aragorn added, carefully handing the jewel back.
Gimli cheeks turned bright red and he bowed clumsily, "T-Thank you, King Elessar, I will guard it with my life."
Legolas laughed, positively beaming from head to toe. Aragorn joined in the laughter. Their travels to Imladris hadn't been in vain.
But the celebrations were suddenly cut short.
"My liege!" Aragorn spun around.
His second in command, out of breath held a look of deep concern in front of him.
"What is it?"
"We found something very troubling down in the cellar. Please, make haste!"
Drawing out their weapons, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli swiftly made their way down the spiralling stairway and soon found the open trapdoor in the kitchen. A faint sound came from its depths.
"An infant's cry!" Legolas noted in alarm, worry creasing his forehead.
"This wretched place of evil is no place for an infant," Gimli's deep voice rumbled.
"Agreed," Aragorn felt a deep dread rise inside of him.
They reached the bottom of the cellar, it was pitch black and the small whimpers of a newborn were alarmingly close somewhere in this room. A soldier brought a torch alight and the darkness was lifted, revealing a slender feminine form laying on a bed under a slim blanket. She held a tiny bundle in her arms.
There was no mistaking the delicate features and pointed ears - the woman in front of them was elven. As Aragorn got closer, he couldn't help notice her gaunt sunken cheeks and her ashen skin. The dread that had begun mounting earlier had formed knots in his stomach.
Legolas was already at her side, her limp hand in his.
"Is she?..." Aragorn began, afraid of what the answer might be.
"No… almost. She is fading…"
Aware of their presence, the elven maid opened her eyes.
"Curumo, my love. Is that you?" the words were spoken in Quenya and barely audible.
Aragorn held his breath. Curumo was one of Saruman's other names.
Legolas shook his head and replied in her own tongue, "I am Legolas of Mirkwood, this is Gimli son of Gloin and his liege, King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor. Pray tell me, what is your name?
Tears of ran down her face, "Nórisilmë of the Avamanyar."
Aragorn recognized the word. The Avamanyar were of the elves who refused the summons to Valinor. He stole a glance at Legolas and the elf returned his concerned expression.
Elessar knelt at her side, his heart in his throat, "Please, lady Nórisilmë, let us tend to you and remove you from this lonely prison."
"I'm afraid that my time in this world is over," her regret and sorrow was palpable. "Please take care of my child, my sweet Tuilindil."
The elf coughed weakly, her breath short and uneven. She gave the little bundle a soft kiss on the forehead and looked to Legolas, "You are of my kin. Please, have her brought to the Undying Lands; to see the light of Valinor. This is my wish," Nórisilmë extended her arms and handed him her infant. Legolas looked visibly shaken as he cradled the tiny elven baby in his arms.
"Valar, forgive... me..." Her eyes remained on her baby for a moment then she closed her eyelids, all life leaving her body.
Her head fell to the side and her chest lay still.
Aragorn felt a deep rage aimed at Saruman. He couldn't comprehend why he had imprisoned this poor elf maid… He suspected that he had created this offspring with her. For what purpose?
Even after the darkness of Sauron was lifted, innocents yet still suffered from Saruman's evil and deception.
He tenderly covered the rest of her body with the bed sheet.
It was with a heavy heart that King Elessar departed with his companions and soldiers to make the trek back to Gondor - Gimli holding the legendary Elendilmir, and Legolas; a tiny baby elf.
4th Age - April 14th, 23
"Eldaaaaarion!"
At his name, the young man shifted his weight around to face the sing-song child's voice. His sight was covered with a cloth and his arms extended in her search.
The child, looking to be no more than 7 years of age, squealed in delight as his fingers grazed her skin and she sprinted away from him. "I am too swift, you will not catch me!"
Peeking from under the blindfold, Eldarion reached for the child in a few strides, caught her and spun her as she giggled uncontrollably. They both fell onto the lush grass of the beautiful garden and examined the blue sky above them.
They watched the small fluffy white clouds drift lazily in the warm breeze.
"Brother?" the little girl's sparkling grey eyes went to the young man, "If I was born after you, why is it that you look much older than I?"
Eldarion frowned and he turned onto his side to face his sister.
"Because you are elven and not Dúnedain, like I."
"That's unfair, brother! I wish I was Dúnedain too."
Eldarion snickered, "How so, Tinú?"
The child twirled a lock of hair around her index finger, her lips forming a pout, "For starters, you would stop calling me Tinú! And, secondly, everyone is taller than me and treat me like a child! If I was Dúnedain, I would be treated with respect like a grown-up."
The dark-haired child stood up, brushing away the few strands of stray grass that had clung to her favorite light-blue gown, she crossed her small arms and sulked. Seeing her distress, Eldarion raised to his knees now at perfect eye level with her.
"But look, Tinú, look, we ARE the same height!" He gave her one of his smoldering lop-sided grins which made her burst into a fit of giggles.
He examined her quietly for a moment and then added, "You're the one who's lucky, Tinú. Even though the Dúnedain live long lives compared to men, you'll most likely outlive me and everyone else."
He spoke the words without thinking and now deeply regretted it. His sister had a horror-filled expression marring her dainty porcelain-doll-like features. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and she burst in a mad run, sobbing.
"I'm sorry, Tinú, I take it back!" he yelled in her direction. He sighed. Father would be having that discussion with him again.
He kicked at the grass and rubbed his hand through his short hair.
"The concept of immortality is not one easy to understand, especially for one so young as she."
A tall elf dressed in greens and browns, approached Eldarion; a sad smile on his fair elven face.
"Lord Legolas!" Eldarion exclaimed in joyful surprise. "You have arrived!"
"Of course, I would not dare miss your 20th birthday."
"I'm not certain I feel like celebrating any longer. I'm supposed to have matured and yet here I am, acting like a complete fool."
"Do not fret, young prince of Gondor. I will go speak with your sister."
"You won't tell father?" Legolas shook his head.
"Thank you. I am in your debt!"
Legolas smiled, the weight of his hand on his shoulder in show of comfort. "Nothing is more painful than outliving one's loved ones... it is yet the hardest pain the firstborn has to bear," the wood elf said softly, without reprimand. The young man tensed up at his words.
Knowing what he said had sunk in, Legolas made his way deeper into Arwen's beautiful garden.
Legolas easily tracked down the young elf, following the subtle signs of flattened grass and broken twigs. He was happy to be back in the majestic city of Minas Thirith to see his good friend King, Elessar. It had been ten years since he last was in Gondor and seeing Eldarion, now grown man, made him realise just how brief the life of the second born were. A pang of sadness squeezed his heart. One day he would have to say goodbye to his own closest friends. A feeling he would never get used to, even with over two millennia of experience.
He halted in front of a tree, the sound of quiet sobbing came from it's leaves. Looking up, he spotted a white slipper and the hem of a blue dress. Last he had seen Tuilindil, she had been but a small toddler. Like all children of the Eldar, she was joyful, fair and happy. Her laughter was contagious and both Elessar and Arwen loved her like one of their own.
"Greetings, friend!" he said in Sindarin cheerfully, "I seem to be lost, could you aid me?"
A small heart-shaped face framed by long waves of dark hair peeked at him over the branch. She cocked her head to the side, "Do I know you?"
"Perhaps. My name is Legolas. I am a close friend of your father King Elessar,"
"The Legolas of Mirkwood, who walked with the Fellowship of The Ring and destroyed Sauron?!" The sniffles had stopped.
Legolas laughed, "The very same!"
With a nimble grace, the elven girl made her way down the tree. Hanging from a low branch, she let herself freefall and Legolas deftly caught her around the waist.
"You are an elf, like I!" the child's face was but mere inches from his, her grey eyes examining him over closely, "What beautiful, soft hair. It shines like the sun!"
Her fingers traced his jawline, reaching his right ear; inspecting the pointed tip.
"And you have hair that would rival Tinúviel's," Legolas grinned, brushing a dark strand that was obscuring her vision.
She scrunched up her nose in distaste, "I don't like her, she's an elf."
Legolas frowned in fake hurt, "It saddens me greatly that you dislike our kind so. I thought you and I were friends."
Tuilindil stared at him shocked, her eyes wide. Small arms snaked around his neck and she embraced him tightly, "We ARE friends!" The sniffles began once more.
"Dry your tears, Lirimaer. Your face is too sweet for such sadness. We have no control over what we are born as, you were born an elf as Arwen Undómiel was born an elf. Your brother and sisters were born as Dúnedain restored. But that does not lessen the love you share for each other."
"Eldarion said that I would outlive everyone! I do not want that!"
"Smile, Tuilindil, for, your loved ones are alive and well - they are with you now," he caught a tear drop from her skin with the back of his finger. "Treasure every moment and never resent who you are. We all are children of Eru; we have a destiny traced among the stars."
"Your loved ones shall forever remain here..." The elven prince placed his open palm over her beating heart.
The child stared at him, absorbing his every word. An adorable smile lit up her face, "Yes, you are right, friend Legolas. Thank you!" she pecked him on the cheek and freed herself from his hold. "Would you like to see my favorite hiding spot?"
"I would like nothing more, friend…?"
"Tinú."
"Lead the way, friend Tinú."
Tuilindil grabbed hold of Legolas' hand, pulling her new found friend along with her.
(S) Lirimaer - Lovely one
